A curse is far more potent than a wish; a mirrored surface, tarnished with regret. You cannot counter misery with bliss when treatment is a thinly-veiled threat. A curse is envy in another guise; a copper-coated weight inside your gut. Sometimes the absence is the greater prize and that which once was open must be shut. A curse can be a masquerade of hope: a shifting silver slither of belief. We are the patterns in kaleidoscopes; we twist and turn to circumvent our grief. Infinity is malice, only worse. A lie provides the kindness in a curse. Originally published as part of the 28SonnetsLater poetry project in 2019.
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